


King of Souls

by What_is_in_a_username



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Dark Harry, Gen, Master of Death, One Shot, god-like harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_is_in_a_username/pseuds/What_is_in_a_username
Summary: On July 31st, 1980 Lilly Potter gave birth to a stillborn child at 11:57 pm. At 11:59, after several attempts to revive the boy, Harry Potter took his first breath. A child who had died before was even born.He died for the second time on Allhallows eve, barely over a year in age from an unbeatable curse. The next time he died was at the hands of his relative from a fever left untreated. He was frequent visitor to death’s kingdom, coming back time and time again, never could stay. As a child, when he awoke Harry could never quite remembered what happen but with age came knowledge of forays into the afterlife. His young life so harsh and fatal, but he was never allowed the reprieve of death. Each death changed him and each time someone had managed to kill him, he left something vital in the land of the dead.Can you stay sane without reason? Can you be human without humanity? Can you truly be alive with no soul?





	

On July 31st, 1980 Lilly Potter gave birth to a stillborn child at 11:57 pm. At 11:59, after several attempts to revive the boy, Harry James Potter took his first breath. He was a child who had died before he was even born.  
He died for the second time on Allhallows eve, when he was barely over a year in age, from an unbeatable curse. The next time he died was at the hands of his relatives from a fever left untreated. He was frequent visitor to death’s kingdom, coming back time and time again, never could stay. As a child, when he awoke Harry could never quite remembered what happen but with age came knowledge of forays into the afterlife. His young life so harsh and fatal, but he was never allowed the reprieve of death. Each death changed him and each time someone had managed to kill him, he left something vital in the land of the dead.  
Can you stay sane without reason? Can you be human without humanity? Can you truly be alive with no soul? 

<=====>

In his youth Harry was lovely child. He was abnormally slim and proportioned more like a miniature adult than an adolescent, reminiscent of a fine porcelain doll. His skin appeared pale, smooth, his features favoring aristocratic father barely soften by baby fat, sharp cheek bones and sculpted nose, his hair raven wing black, thick, soft and forever tousled.  
The eyes throw it all off.  
They say he had his mother’s eyes. They call them green, like springtime fresh leaves, like shiny bottle glass, just like his mother’s eyes. But they’re not.  
His eyes aren’t green, they are something more. They are priceless emerald gems, cold and hard, they are cool jade chips sharp and deadly, and that churning, passionate shade the ocean turns during a storm. His eyes are the world-ending fire and ice. His eyes were brighter, more vibrate and containing far more than Lilly Potter’s eyes even could. They are death and dark magic, fear and power. They hold the echoed whisper of a curse, “Avada Kadavra.”  
But say they were like his mother’s, hide them behind glass and pretend. 

<=====>

Harry had once though he was normal, back when he was too young to know better. Before he was old enough to know that people don’t dream about the dead whispering lessons in his ear. He knew he wasn’t like his relatives but surely there was other people like him. He had always thought that it was normal – that other people could see what he saw. 'Eyes were windows to the soul', he had heard someone say, and he knew that it was true. He could see it shining there, the soul peaking out through their eyes. It had been distracting, seeing the truth illuminated through so clearly. In a moment, he would know a person, truly understand them, what they want, what they believe. In a heartbeat he would know them as they knew themselves. Harry would understand them well enough to destroy them and take them apart bit by bit. That knowledge was a heavy weight, so he rarely met anyone's eyes, if he could help it. It was uncomfortable, perhaps, but he had not thought it strange.

But then he learned that nobody else could see beyond the shallow thoughts reflected on faces. His Aunt found his gaze unnerving, unnatural. She hated looking into his eyes and had eventually forced him to conceal them under glass. Harry hadn't minded – it was easier, calmer, to not have to face the feelings and truths of other people every time he met their eyes, not feel the temptation to touch and tear. And he got used to it, to living a bit more apart from people – reading only what was on the surface and seeing only what other people saw.  
Later, there had been days when he had wondered... had his parents been the same?  
Did he really have his mother’s eyes? Was his gaze really so similar to hers? Did she too feel the burden of see too much with too bright green eyes? Or were they just describing the shape and color?  
Had his father also covered his eyes with glasses because there was something far too intimate about meeting the souls, seeing the souls of strangers without the protection of a glass wall between them? Or had he just needed glasses?  
Was Harry once more the strange one, the freak? There was no-one left to ask... no-one who could tell him if they had the same 'gift' as him.  
Hah. A gift. Most times, Harry had hated it. He had hated seeing the dislike, the anger and fear in the eyes of his relatives. He had wilted beneath the feelings pouring from strangers and the uncomfortable feeling of a soul so near to his. Seeing everyone rage and innermost horrible thoughts they never share with society, it changes him and he is raised with the acute pain of knowing just how deeply he is despised. He is just like darkness and hate he sees in others and becomes warped and broken by it.  
So he had accepted the glasses his Aunt had thrust upon him, had faithfully worn them not just for her, but for himself, his shield from the feelings. And he continued his childhood seeing less, feeling apart from everyone and everything.  
And it was a blessing – a sense of freedom because no-one could hurt him within himself. In his own mind, his own feelings, he was free to do and feel what he wanted. No-one could see them – and no-one could force their own feelings, their hate, fear, pity, towards him and secluded in the darkness he festers. 

<=====>

There were times when he had reveled in letting that protection go. Later in those happy years at Hogwarts before that war.  
Sometimes, he would take off his glasses and he would see that despite whatever arguments or jealousy might come up, Ron was his friend for life – stubborn, but a pure Gryffindor at heart. And in Hermione's eyes he would read her love for books and knowledge, and beyond that a love much greater - for the few people who had made room for themselves in her heart. Luna was a bright spark of contradictory ethereal, infinite knowledge and child-like innocence. And gentle Neville who always fought in his own way, never not supporting his friends, protective and kind. The twins mirror echoes of each other, spirits alight with trickery, joy and cunning. Sirius who's love was as bright as the star he was named for, who battled demons for Harry. He read trust, faith and warmth, all of it shining so clearly through their souls that, though it was hidden with his glasses on, he could still see. These times he felt only happiness, because with his eyes uncovered, he could see the strength of their friendship and knew without a doubt that it was real. At these moments, he could imagine a life where his ability was a blessing not a curse. These few would never make Harry feel their fear and hate. It made him feel loved, they made him feel human.  
But those moments were rare – especially in times of war, and soon they were gone.

<=====>

Once Harry Potter looked in a mirror that would show him his heart’s desire. He saw himself surrounded by his family. Some had his black hair, others had faces with the same the curve of the jaw and all their eyes gleamed a little too bright in the dim room, just like Harry's. People like him that smiled at him with love in their eyes.  
But he knew it wasn’t, it couldn’t be, true because he was broken. He was a freak. They told him he was too strange and unnatural, they hated him for so many years. He heard them feel it with their own souls. And eventually he felt it too, and it shattered some piece inside him, hurt him, more than all of his deaths ever could. Inside him a monster had grown, it filled in the cracks under skin so he still looked whole, but he knew. He would never have a family. He would never have others like them.  
Nevertheless, he still looked at the mirror night after night because it was a beautiful lie, after all the painful truths.

<=====>

Over the years, Harry Potter matured, and his ability did too. It had changed from merely invasive soul searching, into shadows and aggression, that while it could be occasionally soothed never really went away. He assumed that some of the others could see it too, something lurking behind thick glass. Some people could glimpse the darken figures lurking there, like unknown predators in deep water. With each death, he learns from the dead and returns with a little more power and a little less humanity.

<=====>

Unbeknownst to most, Hermione and Ron learned of it on the very first day. On that fateful train ride Harry Potter slipped up, back before he perfected his mimicry.  
Hermione avoided him for the first while. Afraid. She ran until a troll nearly killed her and the thing that scared her saved her. And then she didn't avoid him anymore. She stuck to his side and nagged and listened and watched. She nagged him to do work when he got too distracted with more important things. She listened even as he went off onto nonsense. And she watched as he sat silent and still or hurried off to do something. She ignored his glares and his frowns and his looks. She ignored the small spark of fear that still stirred in her instinctively. She stilled it and continued on with a lecture, noting those green eyes watched her keenly and knowingly. She wouldn’t leave him, he wouldn’t scare her away, so they became close, and the fear was gone. 

Ron didn't avoid him at first, he was curious and brave enough to not run. Ron stuck to his side like a burr, never letting him close to others. Despite how thick he was he had seen and he knew. He knew. So, he stayed close, never letting the boy out of sight, he was brave and true. He pushed the others away by acting even thicker and loud. He acted rude and became Harry's first defense by keeping everything away. With their extended contact, he learned about the monster watched and he felt compassion. When he helped beat a troll he then backed off and let Hermione in. Hermione, he knew, also knew. She became attached to Harry and started to control. Ron stepped back to let her in, knowing she wouldn't back down and that she would be the order in their new trio.  
They both knew. And they both knew the other was aware. And they both knew Harry knew, but let them alone, amused at them.  
So instead of flinching or watching or provoking they guarded.

<=====>

"I'll leave you someday or I’ll hurt so bad you’ll never recover," Harry warned, after their first year together and they still hadn’t left. He gazed solemnly in general direction of the two, his too green eyes looking deep into them. "One day, I'll tear you two apart and throw you away, that’s what monsters do."  
Ron snorted and Hermione laughed as they chimed together, "in that case-  
"I'll trust you 'til it happens," Ron shrugged. (You see me for me, I am not my brothers you saw that.)  
"And I'll trust you after," Hermione beamed. (You were my first friend, you saved me when no one else would.)

<=====>

Luna never reveals when she knew. She knew, of course, the moment she saw him though none know how. She can see it in him. And she's not scared or wary or terrified or arrogant. She's the same. She makes no note that she knows, she just does. She flits around like before, never changing anything she does with Harry. She doesn't watch her back, or her words, or her stance. She goes on like nothing has changed.  
And since she's always known nothing has changed. She watches him out of the corner of her eyes, watching it swirl inside of him. She watches it dance around his mind and makes the odd comment just to see how sharp his emerald green eyes turn. She likes what she sees and that's why she doesn't change.

<=====>

“Harry can I ask you a question?”  
Once two children sat on the on the bank of the black lake, both staring somewhere off into the mid-distance, having that stare unseeing almost blind look to them, although neither were blind enough to warrant such an expression, even with Harry’s glasses missing. Closer to the castle some first or second years glanced at them with wide eyes, wondering why would Harry Potter be sitting with looney Lovegood. They didn’t realize what Harry Potter really was or how Luna was the closest thing to him he could find. She too could see things other can’t. Sometimes Luna thought that the Harry Potter she knows was like a shell with the true Harry curled up inside and sometime leaking out, like the sound of the ocean when you put it to your ear.  
The boy sitting next to her didn’t move or respond in anyway but she knew he was listening and imagined that it was as much consent as he could give.  
“More than one question, really I have too many to condense into a single inquiry… Do you feel like that? I imagen you must, not being human, it must be quite difficult to find the world you want, so say something easier instead. Or are there words at all for what you wish to say?”  
His green eyes reflected back the dark waters of the lake, looking a shade off of black as he turned his gaze on her. She paused and waited for Harry to uncoil himself. His gaze was so much darker and deeper than her own and Luna could feel his imitation of humanity slip from his eyes.  
“It is said that demons are born of mankind’s greed, suffering, hatred and fear. They do not say that it’s not demon’s actions that cause their creation I feel myself slipping further and further without any ability to stop it.” His voice neither loud nor does it seem to carrying beyond the two of them, but it rings out peculiarly into the dusk.  
Harry returning his gaze to something beyond the horizon, but his gaze was dark and burning inside his eyes.  
“Well then, I shall have to stand by you a pull you back up.” Luna says, standing and holding out a hand.  
Then he looked up at her and Luna was caught in his stare. She suddenly aware of how ephemeral she is, just one single flash of light, a blink and she’s gone, snuffed out like a candle. And yet for all that she isn’t, she burns and shines like a star in his eyes. It is because he stares at, simple by catching his eye, her soul burns bright. Like the moon lit solely by the sun.  
Then he looks away and reaches for his discarded glasses. Luna feels the loss of that moment deeply, she wants to see his eyes clearly again.  
There was more she could ask. She could ask many, many more things, a thousand and one perhaps but she didn’t. Instead they quietly walk the grounds on the fine afternoon and as the sun set she merely asks “Same time next week?”

<====>

Severus Snape knew within a week of seeing the boy. He knew, knew, knew. And he hated. He hated what he saw in Lily's boy. He hated knowing. James Potter's image was erased from his mind the moment he learned. Then all he could do was scowl and sneer and hate because Lily's little boy was not so normal. He stalked the boy in the halls, protecting the boy's back because he was still Lily's. He sneered and yelled at the child, hoping for some response other than the automatic childish retorts. He watched with black eyes and a sneer already half formed, hiding his horror at Lilly’s child.  
When Dumbledore said Occlumency lessons Snape begged, actually begged, him to stop that though. Dumbledore held fast and said it had to be done. And Snape feared.  
The first lesson was one of pain and suffering. He took one look in the boy's eyes and said he could go. The boy mocked him silently with a slight smile. They both faked lessons for Dumbledore, both knowing the old man didn't know what lurked in those too bright eyes.  
But Snape also knew others did know. He knew Weasely and Granger did. He saw their looks and saw their intentions. He was silently thankful there was someone actually guarding them from the boy. He didn't understand that they were guarding Harry from everyone not everyone from Harry.  
So Snape watched with glittering black eyes, waiting for an actual reaction.

<=====>

Dumbledore learned. He learned, oh he learned. But he learned far too late. He learned three days before he died, just after he made the mistake of a lifetime. He learned as icy green eyes watched him with an odd smile of partial amusement and an almost longing. He learned; and how he wished he had known before. He fell, death overcoming him. He had expected his death to be for a plan, for this all to be a purpose. He'd expected for Harry to go as he'd predicted.  
But when he saw sharp green eyes watch him die he learned and he knew

<=====>

Contrary to many thoughts Voldemort understands. He understands and he knows. He knows all about Harry James Potter. The link allowed him glimpses of the boy and he knew. He knew but there was nothing to do about it he knew and it utterly terrified him. It made him oh so wary, it made him act more arrogant, it made him wait, and it made him pray.  
He was already dead. Since learning, he was dead. He knew his demise was fast approaching. And he can understand in a way. Understand why he would be dead and why Harry is. He lounges in a throne and ponders. He thinks of all his plans and then destroys them because he's already dead, his body just doesn't know it.  
Voldemort ponders, and watches, and listens, and guards himself, and waits, and prays, and stays silent, and doesn't change. He prolongs the inevitable. 

<=====>

When he killed Quirrell Harry Potter woke once more in the land of the dead. He knew now he was not a wizard and there were no magical beings like he him, so turned to the dead who had always answered him truthfully.  
“What am I? Why am I alone? Why can I do this?” he pleaded hoping that they held answers.  
“You are special, you are a possibility, you are potential still in the cocoon,” the dead whispered back. “One day, if your path leads you there you will be a god, a god of death and souls. Not of evil nor cruelty merely the ending of life and beginning of afterlife. That is why you have power over souls, that is why you can judge them, that is why you cannot join us. You shall weigh our worth, sit on our throne and rule the souls of the dead.

<=====>

He went to his seer and they sat once more on the pebble strewn shore, this time it was already night and the gloom was thick with an only a sliver of moon in the sky.  
“Did you know what I will be?”  
“I know,” she sighed softy into the night. “My mother was once like you, but she fell off her path. Her name was Alice and she was queen of another world. She ruled a world of wonder and whimsy. She was impossible things and madness. She was going to be a goddess of delirium and delight. She changed reality to nonsense and glee, with eternal tea parties and a cat’s smug smile in the moon. She ruled an impossibility, a forever young queen in blue dress and yellow curls.”  
“But then one day was Father fell into one of her rabbit holes. He was looking for impossible things and when he found them, he chased them. He looked in her eyes and fell in love.”  
“So, Alice left her kingdom and became a wife, no longer a forever young goddess. She had me and became a mother. Together we chased crazy things. She was happy with us most of the time but sometimes she’d go looking for a mirror or burrow. She missed it sometimes. She remembered wielded a blade and slaying a storybook monster. She remembered singing songs that brought roses to life. She remembered being able to pull stars down from the sky and hold them burning in her hand. She died a few years ago, or maybe fell down another rabbit hole or perhaps a looking glass…” her voice trailed off.  
“It not all bad Harry my mother loved being Queen, one day I hope you enjoy your kingdom of souls.”  
Overhead the moon shone bright, like a quicksilver grin. 

<=====>

At eleven, when the wizards came for Harry Potter and took him to their world and our world. He thought that he had found some where to belong with people who wanted and cherished him. He was wrong sadly, wizards were similar, more so then than now, but still the resemblance is there. Never the same, still the odd one out and people still feared and hated The-Boy-Who-Lived but the wizarding world had been enough to make him was content to pretend to belong.  
It all would have been fine after that, Harry could have brokenly lived on. Killing a Dark Lord like everyone wanted, and then would have faded away into the back ground. Becoming someone like Nicolas Flamel, who once did amazing things and achieved the seemingly impossible but became nothing more than a footnote in history even as he still lived. Harry would have been fine secluded away like that, with his family as companions even beyond Death.  
However, wizards are stupid creatures, greedy and ever hungry. Their governments were corrupt and their laws flawed. They see the wealth and the power Harry holds and they want it. 

<=====>

"Oh minster, You people never change. Remember, all I wanted was to be left alone,” Harry laughed bitterly. “But you Wizards didn’t want that, did you? You try to force me to go along with your foolish greed, do you think you could make me. I refuse to play along and will separate myself from your kind and hoard my friends to me. “  
These fools saw only his mask, the smooth porcelain facade with hidden fractures. They saw light dappling on the water and forgot the deep, cold dark beneath. He was untouchable, but had one last weakness remaining, his friends.  
They take away his last bits of joy. His dogfather long gone. He is left with no more smiling Weasleys, no more brilliant Shakespearian queens, no more brave Gryffindors, no more whimsical moons. And so, with one more day and one last death, there is no more pieces left to be broken, there is no humanity left to take and there is nothing stopping him from becoming the Destroyer of Worlds. No more best friends and loving smiles. Just Death remains.  
And that was when Harry gave in to the whispers. The cold dark crooning's of the dead in his ear, promises he had ignored for too long. "So be it," he whispered back. A plea. A call. A cry. But underneath, there was a secret deep within the hidden heart of things. They had never told him that. He did not think they knew. He found that secret for himself. He knew the true shape of the world. All else was shadow and the sound of distant drums. Harry Potter’s world just ended, so the twisted husk that remains decides to end everyone else’s. He takes the last step on his path and reaches the foretold destination.  
The dark king was small and pale upon his throne. His feet upon the stone were bare. His still face appeared soft and sleeping. Then he drew a breath and opened up his eyes. The green glowing in the darkness, shining like a predator. Harry Potter stood, and in the circle of his liquid shadow he smiled a horrible smile, baring his teeth, and brought the weight of his desire down full upon the world. And all things shook. And all things knew his will. And all things bent to please him.  
So, the Death God, King of Souls rules and there’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones. 

<======>

A hundred years pass and society none existent.  
Two hundred years and the earth is covered in a haze of deadly radiation and chemicals.  
Five hundred and earth is slowly recovering outside of Harry’s forest. He decides to help it along he takes the souls of the dead and place them in new forms, creates new empires and ages.  
After a couple millennia, he prods civilization once more, and watches as global wars break out.  
Harry likes to smirk when he thinks of it. His smirk quickly turns to a full-blown grin that shows far too many teeth. It’s been to long for him to feel any real happiness.  
And then he likes to laugh when he thinks of all the people fighting and struggling to live. He likes to laugh, laugh, laugh. It’s almost like feeling delight again.  
So he laughs and laughs and laughs knowing that he is the god of this universe. He likes how dangerous, how sharp he is. He likes to think of himself as all jagged edges and quick wit. He likes to think of himself as terrifying and powerful.  
But he doesn't need to just think it. He is powerful and smart and terrifying. He knows this because he can always feel the power bubbling out of him, almost too much for his body to hold. He can feel his mind running through hundreds of thoughts, working things out in a flash. And he knows he's terrifying.  
He knows he's all this and more. He knows too much. He tries to forget how he became this way. That the sharp jagged edges are because he is broken, that the power he welds so effortlessly is from his many deaths, that fear the others feel is because he not normal, not Just Harry…  
He calls himself a god, and tries to ignore that he is just an abnormality, a freak just like they told him all those years ago.  
The ghosts of his family fade and he is alone again. Forever is too long to live and too long to remember, he becomes too old and he sits all eggshell hollow, empty in the Dark. When, finally, this universe ends and the void swallows all, the thing that was once Harry Potter welcomes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello world 'tis I. (￣▽￣)ノ So I'm new here on AO3 I hope you like my fic. I expect there are grammar issues because I have no beta, sorry. Let me know what you think in the comments and with kudos  
> Edit(5/8/17): I went through and fixed some errors. Shout out to those awesome ppl who said nice things in comments you guys made me blush.


End file.
